This morning, I was waiting tables and dreaming of an internship at San Francisco’s most famous auction house. Now I have my paddle in the air, bidding more money than I can imagine for a priceless painting – and all because of him.

“Going twice…”

Charles St. Clair is a famous British billionaire, and the most seductive man I’ve ever met. I can’t get him out of my head, and he’s not letting me get away. He’s offered the chance of a lifetime, all I need to do is say ‘yes’.

“Sold, to the lady in the front row!”

Things like this don’t happen to girls like me – or do they? All I know is, I’m going to enjoy the ride.

Stella London is a romance lover turned newbie author. After a childhood spent traveling in Europe, she now calls New York City her home - but still keeps a flame burning for those sexy foreign accents. She loves strong coffee, new shoes, and handsome men in a well-cut suit.

My life felt like a fast ride on a too short highway. Coming home should be roses and rainbows, but nothing that comes out of the desert blooms free. I was most certainly not free. I’d missed my payment to Blaine, owed the last client a hundred grand I didn’t have, and my father was on his deathbed. To make matters worse, Wes was missing in action. As in, no one had seen or heard from him in three weeks. Devastation didn’t begin to explain where my mental state was at.

Like anything life had thrown my way, I pulled on my big girl panties, not the sexy lacy ones I enjoyed teasing my guy with, but the kind that said, “This ass means business.”

I had no choice but to make the decision I made.

My ex, the man that ruined the concept of love for me, put my father in the hospital, was about to get everything he ever wanted…at least that’s what I led him to believe.

***

In the ninth book of the Calendar Girl serial, Mia rushes back home to Las Vegas, Nevada. Things have taken a turn for her father, putting her into debt up to her eyeballs.

Each installment in the Calendar Girl Serial will release every month throughout 2015. The stories will feature Mia’s journey as an escort to twelve clients in twelve different locations.

Warning: This book is designed for audiences 18+ due to language and graphic sexual content.

Nathan James knows what he wants, and that’s the beautiful, successful Bryer Kavanagh. Both have to conquer their past, so it doesn’t dictate their future together. But neither of them can anticipate the depths of betrayal ahead.

Midwestern born, Virginia Wine is a longtime lover of romance and well told stories. It was only natural to turn that passion into writing a love story of her own.

Married to a real life Iron Man with legendary stamina, they have two children who keep them on their toes.

Always up for a challenge, Virginia loves bike riding, kayaking, tennis, and boating. She's a self-proclaimed zip-line junkie and will try any adventure that gets her out of the writing cave and into an adrenaline high.

I own Second Circle, the hottest underground sex club in Texas. And as hard as it is, pun intended, I’ve learned better than to fuck with the playthings at my club. It only leads to trouble. But being twenty-seven, well-hung, and a millionaire, coupled with a brand of kink that makes most romance novels look like nursery rhymes, it’s a magnet for pussy.

The one exception to that rule seems to be the tight-assed reporter named Lola who joins Second Circle seeking answers about the girl who went missing from my club last year.

Her only objective is to solve a mystery, while mine is to fuck her senseless.

“Any of those excite you?” he asked, his mischievous blue eyes dancing on mine.

I’d practiced my answers the whole ride over, almost running a red light as I rehearsed what I would say when asked this very question. Now, though, seated at the bar that looked like it could’ve been the centerpiece of any number of trendy restaurants or clubs in the city, the words wouldn’t come. Because this wasn’t just any bar, it was the lounge inside Second Circle, Austin’s most notorious and highly secretive sex club. I could only sit here, frozen, unable to think of a single damn thing to say.

Clearing his throat, the man tried again. “What aspects are you most interested in Miss...Lola?

“Penis.”

“We’ll get to that later, sweetheart. Promise.” He winked.

Snatching my eyes away from the impressively large bulge at the front of his pants, horror set in as I realized what had just come out of my mouth. Oh dear God. My face turned as red as a beet, and I muttered a curse. How could I be screwing this up so horribly when I’d only been here for minutes?

“Do you need a moment?” There was a hint of laughter in his voice, as though he knew how hard I was fighting to compose myself and was willing to let me give it my best before moving on.

“Ah, no. I’m sorry, I was just...distracted.”

He smiled at me, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. As co-owner of the club, Carter was gracious enough to provide an overview, but it felt more like casual flirting, something I was obviously out of practice with.

“Don’t worry, I can have that effect on women."

About The Author

Grace Morgan is a Midwestern girl who kicked off her snow boots and ran west to the land of sunshine and flip flops. You can find her sipping cocktails with her girl posse, going on epically bad blind dates, and pretending to be prim and proper while she dreams up steamy scenes, alpha bad boys, and sassy heroines.

Two very different men have a chance at happiness, but only if they can let go of their painful pasts and allow love to take precedence.

After spending his teens and twenties raising his son, James Maron is now dating Gabriel Juarez, the wealthy and sophisticated CFO of the TechPrim technology empire. But after a life of proudly holding his head above the poverty line with the ethos of work, priorities, responsibility, and thrift, he is not looking for a Sugar Daddy, he does not need to be rescued, and Gabe’s wealth is as terrifying as feeling love for the first time.

Gabe has never been good at balancing his high pressure job with his relationships. Money usually clears most of the bumps, and when a boyfriend walks away, Gabe figures it’s for a good reason. But James isn’t like other boyfriends. He doesn’t want Gabe’s money for one, and if Gabe wants to keep his relationship together he will have to finally face the ghosts of his own past and reconsider his priorities.

Excerpt

FOR THE millionth time, a load of baseball gear left by the apartment door nearly sent James tumbling. It was one of the very few things he would not miss when Dylan left for college. He checked his watch and saw it was pushing five in the afternoon. He could technically still make it to the laundromat and get a couple of loads through, but the place filled up quick after five and it became difficult to get the good machines.

Dylan came out of his room, his hair sticking up at odd angles from his postpractice shower. “Hey, Dad. I was starting to worry. How did the concert go last night?”

As a last-second surprise, Gabe had gotten them tickets to the California Honeydrops at the Fillmore. After a couple glasses of wine, Gabe had even talked him into dancing. “It was good. Stop leaving your gear by the door.”

“Good?” Dylan tried for a scolding look, but there was too much humor in his eyes. “No, just good does not end with you coming home… um… twenty-one hours later than expected.”

Dylan had been nagging him about getting a social life and a boyfriend for years, but James hadn’t realized he would become so nosy about it once it happened.

You’d think he was the parent here. “The concert ran a bit late, and we got a room in the city.” Then they decided not to leave that room until a few hours after the normal checkout time, followed by a late lunch.

“Which hotel?”

“Does it matter?” James asked as he picked up Dylan’s baseball gear.

“It might.”

“The Saint Francis,” James muttered, deciding to risk a Monday wash.

“Again? Well, here’s to scoring a sugar daddy.”

“What?” James froze for a second as he tucked a baseball bat under his arm.

Dylan headed for the kitchen and rummaged around the fridge. “I mean, a guy with a steady job is a good thing these days, but one who can score you concert tickets and hotel suites on a whim is a pretty sweet deal.” He pulled an apple from the veggie bin.

“He’s not—”

James felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He juggled around the gear until he could pull it out and saw he had missed a call ten minutes earlier.

“He’s not what?

“Hi. It’s me. Stuck in traffic. Seriously, traffic on a Sunday. I think the Niners are playing or something. Don’t worry, I’m on the hands-free setup. Just wanted to say I had a really nice time this weekend. The concert was a lot of fun. The other activities were fun too. Don’t know how busy I’m going to be this week, but I’d love to be able to come up there for lunch or dinner. Catch a movie or something. Oh, Tamyra left me nine messages, the last one informing me that I’m getting ‘Genie in a Bottle’ for my new ringtone. I’m hoping I can pass it off as a postmodern ironic statement or something. Oh look. Traffic is moving. Well, I’ll talk to you later. Drive carefully. Bye.” Bowerbirds

James kept the phone to his ear even after the message ended. Dylan stared at him, one eyebrow raised. He had a funny feeling Dylan practiced that look in the mirror. James hung up the phone. “You know what? My love life is none of your business.”

ADA MARIA SOTO is a born and raised Californian Mexican-American currently living as an expat in the South Pacific with her toddler and partner.

She has studied and worked in theater, film, and television with all the usual crummy side jobs of a struggling artist. She has dysgraphia and phonological dyslexia but refuses to let that slow down her writing.

She is a sports fan dedicated to the Oakland A’s, San Jose Sharks, Auckland Blues, USA Eagles, New Zealand All Blacks, New Zealand Black Caps, and the Chennai Super Kings.

She loves to hear from her fans, or really anyone who has read her work.

How did that famous quote from that old movie go? Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world...

Well, this was a biker bar, not a gin joint, and there wasn't really a town nearby. But to have my long-lost stepbrother show up in the very place I'd washed up a month earlier like flotsam from a shipwreck - that was the same kind of irony.

Thank God he wouldn't recognize me. I'd been ten years old when he last saw me seventeen years ago. Too bad for my battered heart that I now recognized what I'd only sensed as a child. My stepbrother the rock star was hot.

I was lifting a mug of ice-cold draft beer for my first swig when the exclamation from our manager, Mark Brent, caused me to miss and splash half of it over my hands as I flinched. The sound of Mark’s chair hitting the floor as he jumped to his feet accompanied his exclamation. I jerked my head up, getting ready to rip him a new one, only to see him running out the front door of the bar. I set my remaining beer down quickly and then followed Mark at a brisk pace, along with the others.

As soon as I was out the front door, the rest of the band members clustering around me, I saw the reason for Mark’s alarm. The bus was on fire.

Joe, the driver had an inadequate-looking fire extinguisher aimed underneath the vehicle, where black smoke roiled out unchecked by the foam. As soon as the guys saw what was going on, pandemonium broke loose. Unlike bigger bands, ours traveled with no crew. Our instruments and accessories, all but a drum kit, were in the luggage hold, perilously near the fire. Ike, the drummer, was the only one who didn’t run to the bus to rescue equipment, besides me.

I froze for half a second, and then used lungs more used to belting out rock music to yell. “Guys! Get away from there! It could go up. Holy shit, it’s just things.” Axel, Kirk and Cole ignored me, while Mark took off after them. I turned to Ike. “Call 911!”

“Rex, take a look around. There’s no town. This is just a shitty little biker bar in the middle of BFE-nowhere Wyoming. Where do you think a fire crew is going to come from?”

I lifted my gaze and stared out at the highway stretching from the east horizon to the west. Ike was right. Not a building in sight, other than Smokey’s Roadhouse, the bar where we’d stopped for lunch. The smoke from under the bus was dissipating though. Maybe the fire extinguisher had been enough after all.

Mark had managed to pull Cole, the bass player, away from the bus, but the two guitarists were still banging on the luggage hold, as if that would make it magically open. I couldn’t blame them. Between them, they probably had thousands of dollars’ worth of back line in that hold.

By rights it should have been in a crew bus. Even as I watched the bus destroy what might be our last chance to make it before some of the guys bailed on me, I knew it was my fault. Extinction wasn’t just our band name. It was a real possibility for our careers if this damn fire meant the bus wasn’t road-worthy.

Amy

He didn’t recognize me, thank God. I couldn’t afford for anyone to know who or where I was. After I calmed down, I reasoned it out. It had been seventeen years since he’d last seen me, and I was only ten at the time. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell he’d know me now. Not only had I grown up, I’d grown up hard.

On the other hand, I knew what that cool once-over meant. His eyes lingered on my cleavage a second too long. If I knew men, and I had good reason to, he’d make a play for me sometime tonight. I couldn’t let that happen under any circumstances. It would just be too weird, even though our relationship was less than nothing.

His mother had married my father nineteen years ago. Like most of the women Dad attracted, she took off soon, though she did manage to last two years. She took her seventeen-year-old son with her. She hugged me before she left, and whispered, “I wish I could take you with me, honey, but he’d come after us. I’ll report him to the authorities.”

I had no idea what that meant, then. And if she did, it went nowhere. My dad needed a substitute punching bag, and I got nominated by default. Whenever I hid from him, I pretended my big stepbrother, Rick, would find me and take me with him this time. But his last words to me, “See you kid,” never came true. I hadn’t seen him again, until now.

The men at the table with Rick called him Rex. I’d changed my name too. During the course of an otherwise slow afternoon, I gathered a few bits of information as I served them. They were a band—a rock band I assumed—and their bus had caught fire in our parking lot. It looked like it wasn’t going anywhere soon. My boss, Smokey, said it would probably take the rest of the day for a mechanic to get here to assess the damage. Highway 80 had plenty of traffic, but it was a long stretch of just about nothing from Rawlins to Rock Springs.

Author Bio

Like you, I'm a reader. When I read a good story with characters I can connect with, my everyday existence fades into the background as I enter a world that may contain exotic locations, adventure and excitement. And, if I can be totally honest with you, in my favorite stories I can fall in love for a while with an impossibly gorgeous guy who is the best lover imaginable.

So, maybe it won't come as a surprise that in my books you'll find hot alpha male book-boyfriends, sassy heroines who are much more clever and beautiful than I am, and stories I hope will make you laugh and cry while reading them, as I did while writing them. Oh, and some scenes you may want to role-play with your lover.

If you'd like to know more about me, my books, or special offers for free reading, please check my website at www.jessajacobs.com.